


Hologram of You

by diet_affection



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Emotional Hurt, Grief/Mourning, Keith (Voltron) Dies, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) in Denial, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Lance (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Sad, Sad Ending, Tragic Romance, i'm sorry guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 12:36:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16018058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diet_affection/pseuds/diet_affection
Summary: In which Lance realizes everything, and loses it all.//read the tags guys





	Hologram of You

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try my hand at writing major character death once. Never doing this again that's for sure. 
> 
> Also, this was actually written back in May, I just haven't felt like posting it - only doing it now cause I'm tired of the draft being deleted. So technically this is one of my first klance fics.

 

They’d been fighting for hours, and Lance was tired, hungry, and incredibly annoyed.

After being separated from the group, he’d ended up in a shootout in some staircase, with Keith of all people. It was like destiny was against him. The whole time they’d argued, Lance snapping instructions and Keith mumbling objections. For a while they’d actually been doing fairly well, keeping the Galra at a distance and even forcing them to back up until the two of them were almost ready to take the chance and bolt up the stairs to safety. The Galra soldiers saw that they had lost their chance, and retreated, but not before throwing a glowing ball of something against them. Which Lance had stared stupidly at as it flew through the air towards him.

The explosion had wrecked his helmet, leaving his head unprotected and bleeding from a number of small gashes. A grenade, of course. He should have known. Keith had been all over him, shaking him awake and putting his hands all over his face. _I’m fucking fine, leave me alone_ , he had hissed and pushed him away, not in the mood for pity. He _knew_ he should have seen it coming, he was aware of his mistake, okay?

It annoyed him so much; always being the one who fucked up and needed to be cared for – but he wasn’t a goddamn baby. It just made him so _angry_ ; the way Keith acted towards him. He didn’t get it – one second he would be showing off, cutting down Galra in unnecessary cool ways, and the next he would be smiling at him, _smiling_ , and tell him he had done a good job. It always caught Lance off guard, and it always made him splutter like an idiot.

 

They were walking down a hallway, trying to get back to the rest of the team according to the directions Keith had gotten over the radio. They kept going in wider circles than necessary, which Lance grumbled about to himself. He knew that Keith always took the shortest route, reckless idiot as he was. There was no reason for him to suddenly take the safe route, so Lance blamed it on the other not hearing the instructions clearly. If only he had his own helmet, maybe they wouldn’t be getting lost inside enemy territory like this.

Lance was rubbing his stinging, blood-stained forehead and thinking how this day couldn’t possibly get any worse, when Keith suddenly elbowed him in the ribs, hard. The force of it pushed him into the nearby wall with a smack. He whipped his head around to shout a curse, but a crackling bolt of light suddenly zoomed right past him; where his head had been a second ago.

“Get down!”, Keith shouted, already with his knife in his hand, his other arm holding up a shield to deflect the next blasts. Lance blinked. He gathered himself enough to grab his shooter and lean forward to aim carefully for the weak spots he knew the Galra uniforms had.

“Cover me,” he snapped, before realizing that Keith already had the shield protecting him, deflecting his own blasts with the blade of his sword. “Yeah, like that,” he muttered and begun firing away at the enemies. He couldn’t help but flash a grin every time he hit _just_ the spot he had been aiming for.

Soon, the fire died down as the last soldiers retreated, realizing they were in a bad position. The hallway went quiet, and he let out a relieved breath. Lance rolled his shoulders, unable to resist the urge to brag a little.

“Good thing I was here to rescue you, or what, Mr. Can’t-handle-a-shooter?”

“I seem to remember pushing you out of the way of enemy fire just minutes ago, Mr. Watch-your-own-goddamn-back.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed, face flushing unpleasantly. When the hell had Keith gotten so good at tossing back his insults?

“Hey! I just bullseye-ed all of those soldiers, don’t pretend you’re not even a little bit impressed. You can’t do anything long distance with that stupid knife of yours.”

“You’re right,” Keith muttered. Lance stuttered in the middle of thinking up his next insult. Had he just said _you’re right?_ Couldn’t be.

“You’re right,” he repeated while leaning into him; suddenly very close. For some reason, he was smirking. _Smirking_ , which was _his_ move. Something was different about it when it was on Keith’s face, and it bothered him.

“My talents _are_ better up close.”

Then he turned, walking down the hallway with a little smile on his face.

_Oh, what the hell? What’s that supposed to mean?_

Lance stomped after him, feeling that same unexplainable annoyance bubble up his chest, making his face heat up and his chest clench painfully. He couldn’t stop his mouth from moving, spewing out halfhearted insults to cover up his confusion.

“Oh yeah? What talents? Like you have any! I beat you at sparring all the time, you know!”

“I beat you last time.”

_Fuck._ Too late, he realized his mistake. Even though it was halfway true – he did win often, though only with ranged weapons, Keith was better at hand-to-hand combat– his defeat last time had been horribly embarrassing. They’d been fighting for a long time, both of them sweaty and frustrated and _not_ giving up. Their sparring had lost its elegancy and swiftness, and ended up in an uncoordinated wrestling match that only ended when Lance had been struck with how he could feel Keith’s panting breath against his neck, how his fingers were curled in the fabric of Lance’s shirt, and just how _close_ he was to his face – it was _weird_ , alright?

That moment of hesitation had been all Keith needed to swipe his feet from underneath him and throw him to the floor, a little harder than necessary. With the other’s knee in his back and his arms twisted behind him, he had completely and utterly lost.

“We don’t talk about last time,” Lance huffed, struggling to keep from grimacing. This day was just getting worse and worse. “Point is, you’re not as good as –“

Keith lifted his shield, and before he had time to ask, blasts were raining down on them again, sparking off the glowing shield. Lance broke off into a curse as they ran down the hall into a large dock, trying to find cover behind old spaceships.

Keith was suddenly limping, stopping so abruptly that Lance walked right into him. Groaning, he squinted down at the other, expecting a snarky comment about being clumsy – but Keith was bent over, hands on his knees, shaking lightly. His knife was on the floor. Keith never dropped his knife.

“You okay?”, he asked with a high-pitched voice. “Keith? Hey!” He kept shooting, only glancing over at his rival – friend – whatever – in between aiming and firing.

“Fine. I’m - okay.”

His voice was faint. Lance lowered his shooter and pulled him with him so that they were standing behind cover.

“You sure?”

Keith lifted his hands, opening and closing his fists.

“I feel kinda numb. I think that was a paralyzing blast, earlier.”

“Earlier, you mean - …Wait, that _hit_ you? _Fuck_ \- “

His voice cracked slightly. Hadn’t that blast been aimed at _him_?

“It only grazed me. I can still move,” Keith responded with a slight groan. “It’s nothing. Come on, we need to get out of here.”

 

Blasts ricocheted between the walls above them, and Lance cursed loudly. There were Galra approaching from both sides, _many_ of them, way too many. This was bad. He looked over at Keith’s knife, too far from them, too risky to get. They had to do this the hard way.

“We have to run. I’ll cover us, come on.”

He pushed Keith forward, and with a rush of adrenaline he followed, firing at every movement he could see. It went well for a while. Blasts were pummeling down around them, but he was quick enough on the trigger to force the enemy back, and Keith was still holding the shield above them.

Then Lance felt something hit his leg, and ice spread through his veins. His right leg was completely numb, and the cold was spreading to his hips, his chest –

He fell before he had time to utter anything more than a strangled gasp. His arms wouldn’t respond when he tried to brace the fall, and his face hit the floor, hard.

 

He must have blacked out a couple seconds. When his eyes shot open, he was on his back, gasping.

“-ance. Lance! Lance, please! Can you hear me?”

With some trouble he managed to sit up, his head still spinning and his tongue feeling heavy and numb. Keith was standing above him. Concern was very visible in his eyes. Lance almost smiled at that, before he saw Keith’s raised hands.

_Oh no._

He clambered to his feet, and would have fallen without Keith’s arm grabbing his waist and holding him up. His chest clenched painfully, but this time it wasn’t embarrassment that was the cause.

It was the twenty Galra soldiers surrounding them, pointing blasters at him and Keith. He could see glowing red dots dancing over the other’s pale forehead, his own naked throat, their chests. He had no doubt those were deadly blasts, this time. A cold wash of fear ran down his back.

“So these are the legendary defenders of the universe? These … boys?”, one of the Galra sneered; a general going by the difference in uniform.

Lance attempted a confident grin, but with the shaking of his legs and him still leaning on Keith for support, it came out rather feeble.

“That’s right. These boys. Like what you see?”

To his shock, the Galra actually slid his yellow gaze over his body before twisting his face into a grimace.

“Weak twig of a human. We have no need for you.”

Lance felt his face darken, and he let go of Keith, straightening with anger. The Galra’s eyes shifted to Keith, and narrowed with sudden interest.

“Oh? What is this?”

He stepped closer, nostrils flaring above a growing smirk.

“You are part Galra.”

Lance glanced at Keith, whose eyes had widened a bit. A second later he was glaring.

“So what?”, he bit back. “I’m not on your side.”

“That much is obvious,” the general chuckled.

“However, we have our procedures to … correct turncoats like you. After some very convincing years in our prisons, you’ll make a fine addition to our ranks.”

Almost as an afterthought, he sneered at Lance.

“You, though … I fear the effort is not worth the results. Instead, I think we should use you as an example.”

One of the soldiers grinned at that, flashing sharp teeth.

“Yes. Send a message to the Universe.”

The general nodded, and lifted his clawed hand to signal his subordinates.

“Kill the blue one. We’ll keep the Galra.”

 

The words didn’t register in Lance’s mind at first. He blinked slowly, focus shifting in and out as he saw the Galra move towards them.

And then the barrel of the closest soldier was lighting up; red energy gathering. Lance glanced down at the glowing laser dot on his chest.

_Oh … Fuck._

_I’m gonna die._

As the impact barreled into him, knocking the breath out of his lungs, he squeezed his eyes shut by instinct. It didn’t hurt, strangely. Wasn’t that a bad sign, when you couldn’t even feel the wound? He was pretty sure he’d heard that somewhere.

Afraid of what he would see, he squinted his eyes open.

 

Instead of the smoking barrel of a Galra shooter, his gaze landed on the back of a mass of tangled, black hair.

Everything seemed sort of … slow. Even his thoughts were moving sluggishly through his mind, not matching the rapid beating of his heart, sending almost painful thumps through his veins.

Keith was standing stiffly, sort of hunched together. Like he was in pain.

Finally, his mind put two and two together.

His first thought:

_No._

His second:

_Again? Fucking again? Why does this keep happening?_

It had been supposed to hit _him._ And stupid Keith had to stupidly jump in front of him, acting like a hero when they were supposed to hate each other, for some reason he couldn’t precisely remember though the haze of worry in his mind.

Then, the realization hit him that this time it had not been a paralyzing blast.

Swallowing through his suddenly very dry throat, Lance put his hands lightly on the shoulder in front of him.

“Keith? Hey … Keith? You okay?

His touch made Keith suddenly crumple together, and he just barely managed to catch him before he hit the floor. Holding the other up, arms clenched tightly around his chest, he glanced around the room. The soldiers were hesitating, realizing what had just happened.

Lance took the chance to shift Keith in his arms, looking over his shoulder to check the damage. The breastplate was shattered around the gaping wound. His eyes widened as he saw the blackened skin, the plastic half melted into torn flesh, and further in, … _things_ you weren’t supposed to see outside of an anatomical chart. Red was spilling down the white of his armor, pooling in the crevices. Not moving, he stared at the wound.

“Lance …”

Faintly, he could hear the blood drops hitting the floor, a constant dripping that reminded him of rain. Shifting his gaze down, he saw how they were soaking into the dust on the floor, swallowing the gray powder and merging into a rapidly increasing puddle.

He heard his name again, and managed to lift his eyes. The hall was full of dark smoke curling against the ceiling, and the soldiers who weren’t lying dead on the floor were running around, shouting through the chaos. A smashed-in ship lay smoldering to their left, where it had crashed into the hall from the outside.

He hadn’t noticed.

“Get the blaster, idiot,” Keith hissed faintly, before tearing himself out of his arms and immediately staggering, dropping to his knees. Lance forced his limbs into motion, and swiped the abandoned Galra blaster from the floor, shooting down the last soldiers nearby with trembling hands. When they finally were alone with the smoking rubble, he stumbled over to Keith, who had collapsed on the floor, face down.

Lance shook him gently, to no response. You weren’t supposed to let someone wounded fall asleep, wasn’t that a thing? Why could he never _remember_ these things? What did he know of first aid? Swearing in between breaths, he grabbed a shoulder and turned him over to his back.

 

Keith’s face was slack, lips parted in a gasp. His eyes were open, but the purple was clouded over, and seemed strangely shallow _._ They no longer held the vast bottomlessness they used to.

For a second, or maybe an hour, he just sat there.

Lance didn’t know if he was screaming or unable to utter a word; it was all silent in his head. He became aware of his lips moving, a name tearing out of him over and over. So he was probably screaming.

_Radio_ , he thought numbly. _Have to contact the others. Healing pod. Have to save him_.

He grabbed the red helmet and slid it off the other’s head. His hands were shaking so badly that Keith’s head hit the floor with a crack and rolled to the side with a lifelessness that left no doubt.

_He’s dead._

Lance felt something running down his cheeks. When he lifted his hand to dry the tears, his gloved were stained red. Blood from his head wound. He looked down on it, dumbfounded. Why wasn’t he crying?

He was sad, wasn’t he?

Whatever it was, the feeling was tight and heavy in his body. He could barely breathe through it.

He knew he was in shock. For some reason, that fact was clear in his mind. Still, he couldn’t shake the sensation of being underwater. No, that wasn’t right. The ocean was never still, like this. It was endlessly in motion, _alive_. This was the deadness of space. Of walking on a planet where the gravity was five times that of earth, where the air he needed to breathe was replaced by a black vacuum.

Lance knew without a doubt that the numbness was the only thing anchoring him to saneness. He knew the reality of what had just happened was too much for his mind to handle, and so his body was protecting him by shutting it down. Pulling the detachment around himself like a protective cloak, he lifted the helmet and begun talking into the radio in short, clipped sentences. He had no idea what he said, but it must have sounded horrible. Only minutes later, the team were bursting though the gap in the wall, running towards them with worry twisting their faces.

Soon they were crying.

Lance hugged his knees to his body, his eyes shifting restlessly around. He couldn’t look at them – Allura with hands over her mouth, Hunk quaking with sobs, Pidge wiping behind her glasses, Shiro holding Keith in his arms; shoulders shaking.

Lance couldn’t do anything but sit there, burying his head between his knees while drowning himself in the numbness.

 

Somehow, they were in the castle ship again. Time had passed. Someone had made him take off his armor, and patched up the gashes on his head. He walked back to his room in a daze. The castle was clinically white and polished around him, and Keith was gone.

He showered, letting the dirt and blood swirl down the drain, leaving only his mind stained and discolored. Afterwards, he stared at himself in the foggy mirror. He looked the same, somehow. How could he possibly be the same person who woke up this morning, who shaved and washed his face in this sink, who grinned at his own reflection before leaving for breakfast?

Something about that thought tore through the layer of fog in his mind, and made him desperate to _feel._ He had to carry the weight of what had happened; had to let it hurt.

Lance bit the inside of his cheek.

_Keith was dead._

His jaw clenched, teeth digging into the flesh.

_It was his fault._

The first tinge of pain hit him.

_His fucking fault._

With a sharp snap, his teeth bit though skin, filling his mouth with the taste of blood. He bent over the sink, choking out a gasp, and spit out drops of red, startling against the pristine sink.

_What is wrong with me?_

_He gave his life for me, and I can’t even cry for him?_

Lance was shaking, the warmth from the shower long gone. He pressed his forehead into the cool mirror and raked his nails down his face, leaving burning trails where his tears should have been.

He was feeling everything, and nothing at all.

 

He slept, somehow. His dreams were black and white static, interspersed with flashes of images so horrifying his mind disintegrated them into pixels before he had time to register them fully.

He awoke late the next morning, feeling nothing but drained. The castle was quiet. They’d probably let him sleep in out of sympathy, or maybe they were too lost in their own grief to notice that it was past noon and he was missing. He laid there for hours and hours, his mind tuned to a low buzz of consciousness, until a knock on the door late in the afternoon finally forced him to leave his bed.

 

Someone tried to talk to him during dinner. Allura, probably, going by the soft voice and the hand on his shoulder. He couldn’t speak. What was there to say? He had trouble forming coherent thoughts; words were out of reach. Lifting the spoon shakily to his mouth, he felt the numbness wash in over him again.

The soup was salty and warm. He barely managed to swallow it down.

 

His next clear memory was of sitting in the shower, legs and arms tucked tightly around himself. It was the only place he felt warm any longer. His skin was wrinkled, body soggy and heavy as if he’d been here for hours. Had he?

Someone’s voice sounded from outside the door. A deep voice, soft but distinctly male. Hunk. His best friend. He shouldn’t have so much trouble remembering his fucking best friends voice.

Staggering to his feet and drying off, he covered his body with a towel and opened the door. Hunk was smiling gently outside.

 “Hey, Lance. How are you holding up?”

His voice was light like a summer sky, thin like glass about to shatter.

Unable to speak, he simply nodded, wiping water from his cheeks. Still no tears.

“Hey, we’ve … Pidge has – “

Hunk cleared his throat.

“Do you remember those scans we did about a month ago? Maybe two? For the whole projection over far distance thing, which never worked? Anyway, she’s – She’s managed to fix it up with the hologram. The AI.”

Lance blinked slowly at him. Hunk wrung his hands.

“We thought – since you were there with him – you know. It was probably … pretty horrible. Must have been. It could maybe help to, to speak with him. One last time. Just once, cause Allura insisted we only keep the AI till tomorrow, to avoid … ah, attachments. But, uh, if you want to, you could –“

“Do what?”, Lance said, voice sluggish.

Taking a shaky breath, Hunk looked him straight in the eyes.

“You could talk to Keith.”

 

The corridor was white and clean, in the flashes he saw walking down the corridor.

So clean, so spotless.

The rooms were all empty.

Hunk’s arm was around his shoulder, but it was cold.

The hall was long, and abandoned.

The room they stopped in front of was huge, the doors arching above their heads.

Hunk’s arm left him, and it was even colder.

“Shiro’s in there,” he mumbled. “Should be done around now.”

Minutes went by, and then a figure emerged from the room to walk quickly by them, face twisted with feelings that made the man unrecognizable. But it had to be Shiro.

Lance stumbled forward at the gentle push in his back.

The doors closed behind him.

The room was large, and so …

Clean. Cold. Empty.

But it wasn’t completely empty.

On a raised platform in the middle of the room stood a ghost. It was bluish in hue, seemingly solid in the middle but flickering along the edges. Its feet hovered slightly above the platform but its posture was relaxed, natural. It had its arms crossed while looking off to the side. And it had Keith’s face.

Lance had to stop and breathe for a second. It was like being hit in the stomach, seeing that face again. It was like taking that deadly blast to his chest – except he hadn’t, because Keith had taken it for him. He was safe, and unhurt, and Keith was –

Walking over before the urge to run away overwhelmed him, he stopped in front of the figure. The ghost’s lips flickered in a slight smile, before it turned its head and looked down at him.

“Hi, Lance.”

He sank to the floor. Those eyes – they were _his._ It was _him._ A hologram, yes, but it was him.

“Shiro said you’re not – doing well.”

_Breathe, Lance_ , he told himself. And he breathed. Swallowed. Raised his head.

“I’m –“

His voice shook, and cut off. What could he even say? He was sorry? Fucking sorry?

“It’s okay. Lance, calm down for me. Can you do that?”

His lungs were full of barbed wire, but he tried.

“I’m … sorry.”

There, he said it. It didn’t lighten the feeling in his chest. He stared into the floor.

“Shiro told me what happened. And Lance … it wasn’t your fault. Really, it wasn’t. I’m – as stupid as it sounds, I’m glad I did it.”

Lance’s head whipped up at that.

“What? Why?”

Avoiding his eyes, Keith’s ghost, hologram, shrugged unconvincingly.

“… You know I only have the memories from before the scan. So I don’t know exactly what was going through my head when I – did that.”

“But you think you know?”

“I … yeah. I guess. I know why I did it.”

“Then tell me.”

With a painful expression, Keith shook his head, pixels shimmering slightly.

“I can’t, Lance.”

“Why _not?_ ”, he croaked.

“It’ll just make it harder. It’s too late, anyways. Chance is gone.”

Lance hid his head in his hands, coldness seeping through him.

“It’s me, isn’t it?”

“Wh– what?”

“It’s because of _me._ Cause you knew I wouldn’t be able to deflect the blast. Cause I’m fucking useless.”

“What are you even saying, Lance?”

His voice was shaking, but he kept going.

 “I’m like - a child you have to protect. Someone you pity. You didn’t think I had it in me to fix the situation, so you did it for me – and you’re _right_ , I didn’t! I don’t! I’m so goddamn helpless that my teammate had to _die_ to save me –“

“Lance. _Lance_. Shut up.”

Keith’s eyebrows were pinched together, in that angry way that was kind of … kind of cute, actually. Had it always been?

“You’re wrong. Really fucking wrong.”

He couldn’t do anything but shake his head. It had to be the reason, it was the only thing he could think of.

“Lance, I promise. You’re wrong. You’re not helpless.”

“Then _why?_ ”

“I won’t tell you –“

“Why?”

“Lance, please.”

“Why, _why_ would you _do_ that?”

“Oh, goddamn it! I’m in love with you. Don’t you see? I’m in -”

Keith sucked in a breath, hands clenching into fists.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

The room was quiet, so Keith continued.

“Well, now that the damage is done. Yeah. I wanted to save you. Because of that. I mean, that’s what _I_ would have done, so I assume … future me also thought that way.”

Lance’s eyes were wide as he thought back.

His thoughts weren’t sluggish anymore, they were moving a thousand frames per second.

And he remembered.

He thought back to all the times he had been annoyed, or confused, or uncomfortable because of something Keith had done. Like the time when he had shot down Lance’s flying training bots for him, and grinned. He hadn’t been showing off to make him jealous. Or the time when he had suddenly began teasing Lance, ruffling his hair to make fun of his bedhead. He hadn’t been mocking him. Or all the times he chose the seat next to Lance, or stood right beside him. He hadn’t been trying to annoy him. And that time in the dim shuttle ship, after a particularly difficult mission, when he had put his head on Lance’s shoulder and looked tiredly into his eyes, muttering _is this okay?_ He hadn’t been confusing him for someone else.

 “…Oh my God. You were trying to flirt with me,” he gasped.

Keith grimaced.

“I’m not very good at it, I know. Not like you.”

“I … I didn’t – Oh, fuck. I made fun of you. I didn’t realize –“

His voice was small, disbelieving.

“You _liked_ me?”

Hugging himself tightly, Keith looked straight at him.

“I loved you. I mean … I still do.”

The numbness was fading. He could feel it now. It wasn’t exactly sadness.

It was pain, like the particles in the air had turned to shards of glass, piercing into every part of him.

Lance was struggling for breath, his throat locking up and his eyes burning. Still, he had to hear it once more. Between choked-off gasps, he forced out a pained whisper.

“…Say it again.”

Keith’s smile was endlessly soft, his holographic eyes shimmering with regret at what would never be.

“I love you, Lance.”

Lance felt something break inside of him, and finally, he cried.

**Author's Note:**

> god fucking damn it now im sad
> 
> Go read my [smutty/romantic/soft fics on my (nsfw) tumblr](https://keith-in-shibari.tumblr.com) to cheer up.
> 
> Or visit my [100% sfw blog with lots of fluffy headcanons and hugs.](https://cottonkogane.tumblr.com)
> 
> Alternatively, if you like pain and sadness, I also have an [angst tumblr.](https://thunderstormkeith.tumblr.com)


End file.
